Shots & Snippets
by jackal1973
Summary: A collection of small scenes, drabbles, or one-shots related to the good old boy and his lady doctor.
1. Southern Sensibilities

"That girl has no sense," those sparse words were whispered repeatedly like the harsh beginnings of a battle cry.

Wade heard numerous versions of the same sentiment muttered around town with disapproving eyes and even more censorious tones as people cleaned up in the aftermath of the parade disaster. The discontent gathered strength with each utterance until the magnitude of Bluebell's wrath struck the new doctor down like a flash of spring lightning with Lemon's sour words. That flat stick of spoiled butter had ruthlessly spread her creamy disdain to perfection and hotly greased the way for the townsfolk to guiltlessly railroad Harley Wilkes' daughter right out of town with Lemon's salty words and less than gracious decorum and it didn't sit well with him after the serious doctoring Wade had just witnessed.

Earlier, he'd stomped across the ravaged town square to that luscious little bit of New York sass's office planning to tear his own strip off her well-shaped hide for making him crash the mayor's float, his drawling speech had already formed with the _'Damn it, Zoe'_ introduction that almost dripped off his tongue with acerbic flavor before he heard the bustle of urgent commotion coming from the open door of her exam room. He knew that ruffle of hoop skirt and petticoats dangling off the table as limply as the nearly unconscious Breeland kinswoman was somehow the reason that the pretty doctor had foolishly sabotaged an event that was supposed to endear Zoe to her new neighbors instead of further alienate the Northern transplant.

Each second that the skilled brunette worked to save a snooty Belle that had publicly and purposefully insulted the lady surgeon just that morning showed Wade the strength of Zoe's true character. That woman's loyalty to healing went bone-deep because there were few residents of their antiquated Southern town that would further tarnish their own reputation to cover for a patient who hadn't wanted their debilitating ailment divulged just so that Betty could merrily waltz around one last time on some float like gentile royalty.

And, as far as he was concerned, little Miss Lemon tart didn't speak for all of Bluebell because he certainly wanted Zoe to remain in their rural Alabama hamlet. In fact, he wanted that sharped tongued bit of saucy goods to keep her savory curves real close to him after their preempted frolic the other night.

Before Wade even knew what he was doing, his low tone filled the empty wake of Zoe's crushed exit, "Dr. Hart sure went a little crazy there with the tractor but I guess I might have, maybe, deserved it." He sheepishly scrunched up his face in a charmingly chagrined way as the assembled crowd behind Lemon now scandalously hung on his every word, "I may have tried to steal a kiss or two without telling her that I was married first."

An audible gasp swelled up from the bystanders like a well-timed chorus of amens during one of Reverend Mayfair's sermons at his audacity. Wade rubbed his chin and shucked his shoulders in that adorable good old boy manner that had gotten him out of many a scrape before as the town heartbreaker raised his eyebrows in emphasis, "That Wilkes' girl may have been raised up North, Lemon Breeland, but, make no mistake, that's one fine woman with Southern sensibilities and standards at heart."

Even though Geroge's fiancé stomped off in a pouting huff of ridiculous petal shaped ruffles and even more frivolous sparkly bobbles without haughtily redressing his claim, Wade already knew the town would swiftly shift the bulk of the blame for the Founder's Day fiasco from Zoe's petite city slicker shoulders to his rebel rousing ones. They'd simply write the whole incident off as something akin to an overly exasperated sigh of what was only to be expected from Crazy Earl's irresponsible son and he could easily shoulder that condemning weight if the townsfolk would collectively give Dr. Hart another chance.

By this afternoon, the local gossip trail would have trended faster than any Twitter timeline that any woman who could turn down Wade Kinsella's legendary Lothario charm and then take him to task for it because of her good moral fiber was of strong stock that proved true to her father's well-established roots in their community. And, by morning, Zoe would be taken under the wing of many a Southern mother hoping to learn her secret prescription for abstaining from his sexual advances in hopes of passing on the virtue saving wisdom to their own precious daughters.

Wade had walked away from the messy spectacle of their town-square feeling uncommonly proud of his self-less defense of Zoe reckoning that her good turn with Betty Breeland had easily deserved one in return. It wasn't until later that night while working his shift at the Rammer Jammer that the bartender realized the seriousness of his seemingly innocuous actions. His deflecting fib had played a rather embellished game of Bluebellian Telephone during the sultry afternoon the likes of which he'd never experienced before when one of the old biddies that had sometimes tended to his Mama as a child marched up to him resolutely defying the aged creak of her knees. Mrs. Downing's lilting accent weathered by years of deeply ingrained traditions wrapped around him like an iron fisted manacle, "Wade Kinsella, you'd best do right by your new girl now and have George Tucker finally file those papers because that's the only thing that will assuage your lady doctor's delicate sensibilities."

He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed but even Wade couldn't miss the cutting truth that sliced over him as every pair of eyes in the bar backed the church going woman's sentiments. The town's people he'd known all his life were more than willing to overlook Dr. Hart's culpability with the crashed floats but it was going to cost him something he might not be able to handle after all. They expected him to make an honest woman of little Miss Zoe just like her Daddy would have and, realistically, probably every other father of a girl he'd dallied with over the past four years had as well.

His days of chasing any skirt that caught his roving eye were definitely numbered but, somehow, that didn't much bother Wade right now considering the entire population of Bluebell had just given him more than tacit permission to singularly chase a tantalizing pair of really shapely shorts for the next year without recourse. In fact, not even George Tucker would be given a free pass to so much as shoot an overly friendly smile in Zoe's direction now that the town matriarchs had gossiped themselves to an erroneous matrimonial conclusion.

Instead of correcting the dear woman who'd also been his Grandmama's best friend, Wade swallowed back a self-satisfied chuckle and charismatically agreed, "Well, alright then."

It was going to be so much fun wooing the city damsel in country distress into his bed with the entire town backing his randy pursuit. He'd seriously enjoy that seemingly earnest path to the Yank's promised land and, when, the good doctor eventually threw him over to return to the Big Apple at the end of the year having supposedly broken his heart, well, Wade would thoroughly relish all the sweetly outraged Dixie flowers lined up to offer their ample consolation as well.

Never again would this Kinsella underestimate what his Mama had always said about old fashioned sensibilities since they were now going to get Wade deeply buried far south of Zoe Hart's personal Mason-Dixon line during her stay here in Alabama. Suddenly though, Northern aggression took on a whole new meaning as the object of his heart's supposed fancy sashayed her cute little derrière into the bar seething his name.

Oh, yes, Zoe Hart might be screaming his name in anger right now but, soon, it would be pitched that high from sheer pleasure and Wade couldn't help but throw his hands up in front of him in a pantomime of self-defense and sweetly cajole, "Now, Doc, whatever you heard, I can explain..."

As their tiff rolled forth like the mighty Crimson Tide, the people of Bluebell avidly watched the sparks fly between two people who common sense said were mismatched but their Southern sensibilities knew were just about perfect for each other.


	2. A Losing Bet

Damn it, Zoe. Why did she have to be the most stubborn, contrary, and exasperating woman he'd ever known?

Dr. Hart was truly a strange and exotic creature; the rare female who'd been able to shut him down at every sexually charged turn. It had driven him more than a little crazy trying to figure her out over the last few months but Wade knew that was still no excuse for what he'd done today.

He'd never meant to hurt her, not really, at least, Wade sincerely hoped that if he searched his rarely examined soul that he wouldn't find that less than gentlemanly revelation with regards to Zoe Hart but he also figured that was unlikely to be wholly true either after tonight. Not with the break-up that he'd planned between the Doc and her vet earlier in the evening and, certainly, not with what had actually transpired during the annual Sweetie Pie Dance.

Wade should have known that the little spitfire wouldn't idly sit by after he'd literally trapped her in the first floor of the carriage house without a means to communicate with the outside world but he also hadn't figured her determination to best him would lead her to try and climb down that rickety old trellis in her foolish heels and flesh hugging dress either. However, their mutual stubborn streaks had cost them both too much this time since Judson had found her small form lying unconscious in a nasty tangle of bush and splintered wood when Zoe didn't arrive for their date.

At first, Wade had thought his crafty pint-sized neighbor had gotten Lavon involved in their little war of wits when the mayor had frantically called but when he'd heard Brick in the background issuing worried orders about ambulances and neck braces; his heart had nearly stopped. It wasn't bad enough that his horsing around had gotten her bitten by a copperhead months prior but, now, his boyish shenanigans had landed her in the hospital with what Dr. Breeland had said was a serious closed head injury; some hematoma-something or other that was bleeding inside her brain. It would either respond to medication in the next few hours or they'd have to operate to relieve the pressure from excessive fluids building up inside her skull; they'd just have to wait and see which path Zoe's body took.

Slowly, he trudged down the corridor to her room knowing that the petite brunette that tormented his every thought was once at home in the sterile confines of a hospital operating room but she now looked wholly out of place in the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting and medicinal smells. It wasn't just that she was in a generic hospital gown that loosely covered her small frame as a patient but, rather, how still she lay upon the gurney. He'd never seen her in anything but some form of perpetual motion even if it was just her smart mouth yapping at him and he wasn't a good enough bullshitter to convince himself that Zoe was just sleeping now either. He'd seen her haphazardly toss and turn in her slumber when he'd been ostensibly protecting her from non-existent ghosts and this frozen statue of unresponsive flesh was something entirely different.

Desperately, he reached for her capable surgeon's hand, cupping the slender digits within his own calloused ones, praying for Zoe to open her eyes and start berating him for taking such liberties with her but the doctor's sassy, honeyed tone never uttered a single word in contradiction. There wasn't even a twitch of her pliable lips to rebuff his actions.

It was all too much to deal with as guilty tears sprang to his eyes. What the hell had he done to her?

This wasn't going to be made up for by an anonymous pot of gumbo as a romantic gesture or a quick apology either. There would be no restitution or salvation for him if his feisty little Doc didn't recover from this accident and, almost hopelessly, he whispered, "I love you, Zoe, I never meant for this to happen no matter how much it killed me to see you with someone else."

Wade wanted to think he felt the slightest hint of tensing in her tiny hand sheltered within their clasped union but he knew that was unlikely no matter how much he needed some sign that she'd be back to shorting the fuse box in no time at all. After a few seconds of staring at where their bodies were joined for the faintest of visual proof, he was unexpectedly disturbed by the clearing of a throat in obvious disapproval from behind him.

Warily, he turned to the intruder who'd dared encroach on his visit with Zoe only to find her stalwart vet standing like an angry sentinel at her door as the other man lowly intoned, "It's time for you to leave now, Kinsella. I think we both know that you've done enough for one night and I have no intention of letting you ever win your bet now."

Remorse nearly choked him at the well-deserved censure and all Wade could do was nod in acknowledgment as he reluctantly slipped away from Zoe's bedside. He turned back once, just to catch another fleeting glimpse of her, but got an eyeful of Judson tenderly smoothing a lock of her rich molasses colored locks off of her forehead instead painfully seeing that they now made the perfect picture of sweet devotion.

Surely, he'd forfeited the wager tonight but, more importantly, he'd forever lost Zoe because for a girl like her; he was always going to be a losing bet.


	3. Winner Takes All

"Hey, did you see that," Wade exclaimed excitedly. "We've got a chance to win this all because Tom Long is choking over there."

And, she was choking right here, right now, as the slick plastic box slipped from her fingers while Zoe watched George and Lemon kissing in a way that even old man Jackson could see meant that they'd surely made up. Otherwise, the crisp and proper Miss Breeland would never allow that much unseemly affection to be displayed in such a public venue.

"Damn it, Zoe," Wade's frustrated tone accompanied the clank of metal falling to a disorganized mess at their feet. "What the hell happened?"

She could feel his searching eyes follow her crestfallen gaze across the lively town square to the happily reunited couple and, immediately, the doctor knew something had irrevocably changed between them. It wasn't for the better either as her race partner growled, "Fifty screws and bolts all over the grass, we're never going to win now."

"Wade, let me help you with that," Zoe guiltily tried to rectify the damage that she'd unwittingly done to more than their chances to win the competition but he wouldn't let her. His brusque, silent, movements were something she wasn't familiar with when Wade was normally flowing with self-confident ease and teasing banter flirtatiously aimed at her.

"No, just stop; okay. Forget about it. There's no point," his angry, closed-off disposition, exploded at her as he grabbed the few parts she'd managed to gather out of her hands in a way that made her feel even more rejected than his snide words. "It's over. And, thank you for costing me five thousand dollars. Thank you for that."

"Wade, I'm so sorry," she desperately tried again to get him to calm down, to forgive her for this careless mistake, and help her fix things like he always did but, this time, Wade was far from accommodating with her.

"I cannot believe that I didn't see this from the beginning. You never wanted to help me," his accusations cut through her like her trusty surgeon's scalpel with their condemning truth making her bleed regret. "The only thing that you wanted was what you always do. Him," he nodded toward George in a manner that was so far from congenial at the moment that it was hard to believe that the two had been good friend's their entire lives.

"And you are," Wade shook his head in bitter disappointment, "you are so obsessed with getting what you want that you don't care who you hurt along the way. Well, let me tell you something Zoe Hart; George Tucker and Lemon Breeland are getting married. That is how this story ends," his words were so inevitably stated, so resolutely strung together, that she finally understood so much more than her doomed future with the town's golden boy. "Why does everyone in this town see that but you? Probably," Wade added with no small amount of disgust and disdain, "because you never care about anyone but yourself."

Instantly, Zoe felt ignominiously swatted down like the most common of houseflies, crushed again by the all too fresh memory of Wade yelling about how stuck-up and superior she was to his brother but if he really thought that way about her; why had he ever wanted her for a partner anyways?

Suddenly, completely fed up with shouldering the brunt of this town's wrath for every little thing, Zoe petulantly challenged him, "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he shouted back with a mouth twisting grimace of utter futility and then stomped off into the cool darkness leaving her standing there alone with nothing but their disassembled rod for company.

"I'll show you, Wade Kinsella," she furiously sputtered at his disappearing back as she pulled off the loose warmth of the hoodie he'd leant her earlier when a chill had come upon her with the setting sun and plucked up the only things she'd find useful from the myriad pieces of their fishing rod still strewn on the ground and then hurriedly shoved them in her jeans.

Ruthlessly, she turned and marched toward her new destination, mentally calculating that scaling the church couldn't be that different from the grueling climbing tower she'd eventually mastered at that stupid sleep away camp her mother had always sent her to for a couple weeks each summer so that Zoe got a proper dose of less-polluted and stifling air than could be had in Manhattan during the doggiest days of summer.

Well, as the doctor clumsily managed to scrape her way up the side of the wood slatted building without the aid of a ladder, Zoe sarcastically figured that the moldy scented air in Bluebell could only get cleaner and purer the closer she rose toward the quaint spire that presided over the God fearing town. She was just about to move from the pitched roofline to the ledge along the white fronted facade when she heard Wade's disgruntled command finally break through her indignant monologue, "Get your foolish butt down here, Doc."

"No," she defiantly shook her head down at him in mutinous reply. Wade's disbelieving, hip fisted stance did nothing but reaffirm her commitment to her course of action and Zoe edged even closer to the corner that jutted out before her trying to ignore the murmurs of concern now rippling across the crowd assembled below in well-timed succession like the celebratory wave at the local football games.

"I'm not kidding now. This is stupid," her bad boy neighbor lamented her denial. Suddenly, he looked uncharacteristically nervous with her spontaneous activity as he added, "You're gonna get yourself hurt."

"I told you we were going to get everything we wanted, Wade," Zoe yelled down to him as she extended her sneaker clad foot out over the precipice of free falling air and onto the small rim that ran under the large, circular window. "And, I'm not selfish enough," she huffed out as she lithely swung the rest of the way around the corner, "to let your pigheaded stubbornness make a liar out of me where you're concerned."

"You falling and breaking that pretty little neck of yours is definitely not what I want from you, Zoe," Wade leveled in an intensely intimate way that shivered along her spine in silent recognition of something infinitely more significant now passing between them than him using her given name without the habitual curse in front of it.

Grunting heavily with her exertion, Zoe evasively countered, "But the money for opening your own bar is..."

Her words suddenly faltered along with her previous steadfast grip on the corner of the building as Zoe tried to shimmy closer to the colorful magnetic fish dangling just out of her reach and Wade swore, "Damn, girl. Your usual brand of craziness isn't cute or funny right now."

As she steadied herself, gulping in much needed air to temper the insane pace of her rapidly beating heart, Zoe heard a few residents sporadically cheer on her partner as Wade swiftly scrambled up the path that had previously taken her much longer to traverse. And, before she knew it, his calloused hand was covering hers, tangling their fingers together as he expertly led her back to the relative safety of the side roof and his solidly muscled embrace before she could even offer a protest. Helplessly, she looked up into eyes that were as murky as the storm of his earlier mood and questioned, "I thought you were mad at me and had given up. So what are you doing up here?"

There was a suspended moment of uncertainty swirling around them before a slow, reckless, grin spread across Wade's slightly whiskered face as he leaned in a little too close for proprieties sake to answer, "Because, Doc, you weren't never gonna admit that you needed me but even if you was in them silly skyscraper heels you usually wear, you weren't ever gonna be tall enough to reach that fish by yourself."

She arched a sardonic brow up at him and impetuously gainsaid his claim, "That's why our line and magnetic lure currently reside in my pocket as a back-up plan."

He gave her a soft, all too knowing look of appreciation just before he smacked her ass companionably and rushed past her. The astonished gasp that escaped her mouth kept on coming when quick as a wink; Wade swooped out onto the tiny ledge and effortlessly snagged the whopper of all of Bluebell's notorious aquatic life along with the boisterous congratulations of all the townsfolk swimming in celebration below. Their merriment happily continued, increasing in volume and praise until Wade purposefully swept her back into his arms on his return to the slanted roof and an expectant hush suddenly cloaked their community in anticipatory silence.

The entire nosy population of her gossip ridden Alabama home were breathlessly hanging upon every second of Wade's lips lingering all too temptingly above hers right along with Zoe and she was thunderstruck with a lightning flash of absolute clarity in that eternity of waiting. She'd sure wanted to make a grand gesture by joining this race and Zoe certainly had but this surely wasn't the one that the doctor had planned since the only person she'd been subtle with by her actions had obviously been herself all along.

When Wade's lips finally crashed down on hers in a dominant winner takes all move; Zoe knew that they hadn't gotten everything they'd originally wanted from this competition but, maybe, just maybe, this year's Bluebell Battle winners were getting everything they'd truly needed as the city girl happily surrendered to that special something that had been brewing with her home-grown neighbor from her very first night here in the heart of Dixie.


	4. First

_A/N: Thanks for all the alerts for my little snippets and, especially, for those who have reviewed._

"Wade, I need a favor," Zoe Hart breezed into the Rammer Jammer in his favorite pair of her silky little shorts as if they were still on friendly terms even though she'd thoroughly ruined his chances of winning The Bluebell Battle prize money because of her adolescent obsession with another man.

"Don't care," Wade sniffed out his dismissal in a manner that implied he smelled something rather rank and extremely foul before he moved with calculation toward the other end of the bar with his well-worn rag to avoid any further discussion with her.

"Actually," the petite doctor quickly followed after him atop her ridiculous designer heels as if the daft woman hadn't even heard a word he'd said, "It's more of a job."

"Not interested," Wade swiftly rejected her unknown offer in hopes that the brunette nuisance would simply go away so that the bartender could let his current dislike for her ferment until it thoroughly dulled his sense of heartbreak and bitter disappointment.

"But," she sputtered adorably in response, "you're the only one I know with the right expertise in this area."

"Doc, I know a little bit 'bout a lot of things," he retorted steadfastly trying to remain unmoved by her obvious ploy of flattery, "but I sure ain't no expert about any of them. Well, except one."

Normally, that last bit would have been delivered with his patented smirk that was guaranteed to eventually make every girl swoon but, today, with her, it was finally absent because there was no point in it anymore.

"Fine," Zoe shrugged her shoulders as if she was conceding this skirmish and started to turn away, "I'll just take Rose car shopping with me then."

"Well, hold on now, Doc," he couldn't help but stop Zoe from leaving the bar just yet after hearing that foolish notion because it just wasn't neighborly to let someone get fleeced. "Did you just say you were going to take a fourteen year old girl with you to buy a car?"

"Yep," she purposefully elongated the single syllabled word intentionally to get on his nerves with her dramatic cuteness before she added, "since the only guy I know who can really tell the difference between an alternator and a carburetor won't go with me."

"Y'all will end up pickin' the thing like it's a pair of dangly earrings if the kid goes along with ya. You'd best take Lavon," he tried to evade once more. "I'm sure he can help you pick out some freshly minted city slicker wheels that will be just as silly here in Bluebell as your swanky heels."

"See, that's the problem," she quirked her mouth to the side. "I'm not in the market for some high-end foreign job for my first ever car."

"Well, what the hell are you buying then," he asked with obvious confusion; unable to picture her behind the wheel of anything that didn't scream first class luxury with its staid tones and superior handling but his brain chose that inopportune moment to recall with total mind drugging clarity Zoe's sweet little frame straddled flush against his highly appreciative lap while they were both up close and real personal behind his Chevelle's wheel.

She flashed him a beguiling smile that was crowned by a gleam of raw, uninhibited, recklessness that Wade had longed to see mirrored in her expression for months as she exuberantly confessed, "I saw this convertible on-line that looks just perfect."

"Damn it, Zoe, you can't buy a car on the internet like it's some hoit- toity coffeemaker," he scolded her. She might be a highly educated doctor but when it came to real life learning, Dr. Hart often came up short of the curve. "You gotta' kick the tires first."

Doubtfully, the tiny brunette looked down at her impractical peep toed shoes and questioned, "Wouldn't that hurt?"

Sighing as he shook his head in exasperation, Wade sighed with his hands on his jean clad hips, "That's only an expression, Doc."

"So, if I'm not really supposed to kick the tires, what am I supposed to do," Zoe looked up at him with wide, open, and all too trusting dual pools of warm molasses. It was in that instant that Wade knew he was finally going to cave because there was no way any slick mouthed car salesman wouldn't see her as easy pickens.

With a defeated grimace, he literally threw in the towel he'd been using on the counter and replied, "You're gonna' wait for my shift to end so that I can go with you."

"Thanks, Wade," she sincerely offered. "You won't regret doing this with me."

Her sentiment was seemingly earnest but it couldn't help being a lie because he already did. However, things like this were Wade's penance until he was finally over one Zoe Hart once and for all. Watching her inherently swish her well-toned backside over to a table to wait for him in a way that was as thoroughly hypnotizing as any swinging pendant Wade knew that he'd be one hopeful step closer to regaining his equilibrium when Zoe had her own transportation. Then, maybe, she could go touring bars in other towns and leave him the hell alone.

* * *

She'd been simply amazing.

The sight of her chocolate tresses floating out behind her like happy streamers, the trill of her laughter doing a merry two step with the breeze as Zoe flew down the back roads from Mobile while he'd followed closely behind her, to ensure that her purchase was as mechanically sound as he'd thought was going to be another torturous delight for a very long time. It was like spying a wild bird, finally, break free of her gilded tether and take flight, soaring to heights she'd only imagined before and, though it shouldn't, it secretly pleased Wade that he'd been able to help give that sense of liberty to her.

As Shelley brought them a couple of longnecks to celebrate their successful negotiation, the bottles surface already beading with condensation in the early summer heat, Zoe pushed an envelope across the battered table at him in a matter of fact way.

Wade took a nonchalant swig of his beer and then nodded toward the packet, "What's that, Doc?"

"Your consultant's fee of course," Zoe smiled back all too enticingly for his own good before she wrapped her pliable lips around her own bottle for a nice, long sip of the cool brew. She looked comfortably content, settled even, among the patrons of the Rammer Jammer in a way he'd yet to see the normally impeccably styled physician since her hair was still slightly disarrayed and windswept from her first joyride with her new beauty.

"That's just a high falutin' way of giving me money that I ain't earned," he readily disagreed. His ego affronted for more than one reason but mainly because Zoe now seemed to think that she needed to pay him for simply helping her like he'd always done.

"That's not true," Zoe insisted listing off her justifications. "You will have more than earned it with your general automotive knowledge, your thorough mechanical inspections, and for knowing that I could get this model serviced here in town so that I wouldn't have to go all the way back to the dealership in Mobile."

"Yeah, Doc, less travel time for maintenance was really why you chose your new beau there," he scoffed at the her silly attempt to rationalize her impulsive decision when they both knew that the normally cautious physician had taken one look at that expensive little splash of brandy wine kandy coated paint and fallen head over stiletto heels in love with the '66 Malibu convertible. He had to admit that she looked damned fine perched upon the white leather bench seat and the strong, linear line of the vehicle's side profile certainly complimented her perfectly.

"Hey," she pouted teasingly, "don't mock my new baby. That's the best first date I've ever been on."

His breath hitched just a bit as Wade desperately tried to remember that Zoe was jawing on about her maiden ride in her new wheels and not the copious time they'd spent together that afternoon just talking while they'd walked around various auto lots but it was no use; something deep inside still wanted that same sentiment to be true about them as well whether he'd uselessly told himself that he hated Zoe Hart one time or a million so that he could get over her.

"Thanks again, Wade, I had a really good time," her honeyed tone softened, flowed through him like an extra smooth shot of Southern Comfort as it inebriated his senses making him slow to remember that the sneaky brunette had purposefully left that damn envelope on the table when she'd walked away.

"Hey, Doc, you left somethin," his voice rose to try and catch her before she disappeared into the setting sun but it was no use. Zoe Hart was already long gone.

Figures, Wade mentally groused for a minute before curiously fingering the crisp edge of what was top quality stationary just like its owner. Before he could stop himself, he was rifling through the envelopes contents and his eyes landed unhappily on the all too generous cashier's check. Damn, girl, he'd never been a charity case.

He was about to stalk out of the bar to chase after that snobbish little know it all and give her another sound piece of his mind when her feminine, looping scrawl surprised him even more than the bank draft had as the girl Wade thought he had to get over nicely thanked him once again for their date and hoped that he wouldn't wait too long before asking her for a second.

"Well, alright then," Wade proudly stated to no one in particular as he pocketed the check that was intended for Zoe's crafty little maintenance plan for her classic vehicle. As she'd explained, why pay somebody else in town when he was right next door and already familiar with the model that she'd purchased.

Finishing off the last of his beer in one long swallow, Wade couldn't help the devil may care grin now permanently fixed on his face because Southern women may know that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach but Zoe Hart was smart enough to know that the path to Wade Kinsella's forgiveness was letting him have free reign under her sexy hood. Well, at least one of them, he smiled even more as he confidently promised ...for now.


	5. Last Call

You could have heard a proverbial pin drop on the floor of the crowded bar in the wake of her high powered challenge.

Zoe had been slightly tipsy not full on drunk after doing multiple shots of bourbon but uninhibited enough to finally call Wade out on his bullshit once and for all. He'd been like an annoying gnat that continually tried to steal a teensy sip of sweetness from her tender flesh until Zoe was perpetually forced to swat him away- time and again- because the rogue wasn't really serious about her. At least, not past his single minded dedication to wooing her into his bed for a meaningless dalliance and she was sick of it, completely fed up of the incessant sexual banter that made her feel oddly cherished on the one hand and mundanely common on the other.

Fueled with more than her fair share of liquid courage, Zoe stood in the center of the Rammer Jammer surrounded by avidly curious townsfolk that certainly knew all about who Harley Wilkes' illegitimate daughter was by now and even more about the resident bad boy that she was verbally dueling with even if the new doctor hadn't quite figured all the locals out yet. Her honeyed tone dripped a reckless dare that would undoubtedly be sticky and messy in the aftermath but, in the rash heat of the moment, she didn't give a damn for once and boldly repeated, "Well, are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"Now, hold your horses there, Doc," his normally affable face was suddenly etched with panicked concern. "You ain't been dippin' into the boxed wine again have ya?"

"No, you lackadaisical buffoon," she brashly returned with just the tiniest hint of an inebriated slur. "You've been uttering not so subtle invitations and slipping me your contrived little one-liners since the day I arrived here in Bluebell and I'm sick and tired of it. So, Wade," she drew out his name in a manner oddly reminiscent of their initial encounter when their tongues had oh so deftly tangled, "either ante up on all of your cocksure innuendos right now or fold for good because I'm not going to be your favorite side-show amusement from the big city anymore. I'm done dealing with all of your immature taunting and teasing. If you're serious; pucker up."

It felt like a light breeze stirred from all of the swiftly raised eyebrows that lifted in well-timed unison as her audacious statements reverberated throughout the local watering hole like an echo at the Grand Canyon. This exchange was certainly going to be the talk of the town regardless of the final outcome but Zoe wasn't going to let that deter her a bit since she couldn't handle another tension fraught encounter with her charismatic neighbor that was of no significance to him but secretly left her off kilter every time.

"Damn it, Zoe," he uncharacteristically balked at the confrontation she'd forced, "this ain't the time nor the place for all of that."

"Just what I thought," the normally responsible physician pursed her lips in chagrin and sighed out her disappointment, "all false bravado and faux Southern charm but no real game when it counts."

There were a few sporadic snickers here and there from their audience that popped off like bottle rockets amid the thick silence before Wade tried to upstage her derisive comment with his drawling humor, "Damn, girl, you're sure walkin on a slant right now, ain't ya."

Uncertainly, Zoe looked down at her favorite rain boots all the more confused by his remark since she was definitely flat footed at the moment but that still didn't help her figure out just what he was trying to convey with what was probably another backwoods colloquialism she'd yet to master. Instead, she remembered what he hadn't said yet and, stubbornly, demanded, "Is that a no then, Wade?"

"I ain't kissin ya when you're all," the bartender awkwardly waved his hands back and forth at her unable to find the right turn of phrase in his flustered agitation, "all... Like _that_."

He finished with a gravelly, self-satisfied nod as Wade resolutely folded his arms over his chest in a way that was a universal signal from men worldwide that what they'd said was supposed to make total sense but somehow it only managed to bemuse, befuddle, bedazzle, be something her instead.

"When I'm all like what, Wade," she sauntered toward him; her slow gate unusually loose, free, and wholly feminine for a change instead of harried New Yorker. An expectant hush swept across her senses from their fascinated onlookers, the anticipation boosting her fortitude as Zoe brushed one short, blunt nail down the open collar of his button-down shirt, lightly raking her fingertip over the molten texture of his well-muscled chest as she impudently whispered, "Like this?"

"Come on, now, Doc," Wade barely choked out as he desperately reached to stay her wandering hand, "you gotta stop all this nonsense now cuz you'll be regrettin it come mornin."

Suddenly, his rather obvious attempts to avoid what the cowboy Casanova had always blatantly inferred that he wanted from her made Zoe angry and she leveled, "Last call, Kinsella, it's now or never."

Uncertainty was rife between them; neither backing down from Zoe's peculiar version of chicken for a long stretch of minutes until she started to put space between their heated, nearly flush bodies once again.

"Fine,_ fine_," his mouth fisted up in a less than gracious defeat at her final ultimatum, "But you sure better remember that you asked for this, Doc."

There was a rowdy chorus of on-lookers readily volunteering to remind the new doctor for him bright and early the next morning when Wade gently swept a skein of her silky locks back from her cheek and gingerly cradled her jaw in his calloused hand like he was holding a fine piece of her Grandmother's most fragile china. The motion was sweetly intimate, yet, possessively tender as he leaned down to softly brush his lips across her temple with chaste affection.

The quick peck shouldn't have left her so shockingly breathless but, nonetheless, Zoe was hard pressed for air when Wade pulled back slightly and shot her a crooked grin that smoldered all the way to the wanton depths of her soul. "Now, if you want somethin a little more excitin' than that, Doc, all you gotta do is ask me nice like when you're not foxed," he paused for particular emphasis, "because I need you to know exactly what you're doin' next time you get to messin' around with me."

It wasn't the crazy, unbridled passion of their first drunken kiss or the sultry distraction of their second unexpected meeting of lips but, somehow, Zoe inherently knew that this one meant a great deal more. It marked a real beginning because Bluebell's notorious rebel seemingly without a care had just proved that he could be a true gentleman, at least, with this Hart.


	6. Shouldn't Be

_So, yeah, not sure where this little riff came from beyond being lulled into a false sense of security that Wade wasn't going to really mess things up after they were good all season so far to keep them towing the line. Ah, they'll work them back around to each other eventually, I have faith. If not, I have fanfiction. : )_

* * *

It shouldn't be like _this_.

It shouldn't be killing her.

It shouldn't be silently ripping Zoe apart inside just to stand with only the quiet madness of her own mind as company tonight but it was. She couldn't help it. She'd kept it together through the reception but, no more, it seemed.

Slowly, she reached up to methodically pull the elfin circlet from the crown of her head with a measured steadiness that belied the torrent of emotions the maid of honor suddenly had swirling around inside of her like a tornado ready to swiftly slap the unsuspecting earth with its all consuming destruction amid the falsely tranquil cover of night. The all too real feelings that lurked behind her feigned charade of normality, stalked her, taunted her, ruthlessly threatened to rush in, to crash over her, to drown her in the rising tide of anguish that wouldn't be merciful enough to sweep her away into a numbing oblivion.

No, these waves of unwanted sentiment would drag her over the craggy, bloody rocks of self realization. That she'd brought this brutal collision course with crushing devastation upon herself.

If she'd never been weak, never given in to his swaggering Southern charm, never let him slip past her cosmopolitan defenses then she wouldn't be here now. In this painful calm before the emotional storm feeling like her world was about to irrevocably break.

Shatter.

Become brittle, embittered shards of the happily ever after she'd reluctantly let spin out of control with every shared smile, every sweet compromise, every intimate weave of the lives they were building together.

But, now...

_Now_...

Now, that she was finally standing all alone in her newly renovated cottage with Wade's haunting, mocking touch reaching out to metaphorically hold her in every sweeping brush of paint- every soft hue, every formerly rustic joint and quaint corner- so that Zoe just couldn't ignore it. Not anymore.

Wetness, warm, salty, and all too real finally rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

Maybe, if she'd never loved him, never held him, never confessed her desire to _really_ try for the first time in her life it wouldn't hurt so damn much.

Yet, somehow, Zoe knew that she was lying to herself.

Again.

Even as she listlessly sunk onto the plush bed she'd never share with him again; Zoe instinctively knew she still hadn't reached bottom.

Not... _yet_.

She'd only skimmed the top of this well of miserable heartbreak and loss but it didn't matter. Zoe would probably still feel something akin to this body wracking grief if she'd never even admitted to anyone that she'd ever let Wade steal even a tiny piece of her heart never-mind recklessly giving him the whole damn thing.

She'd known all about his checkered past but that wasn't what Zoe knew made her a colossal idiot once more.

How could she have been so utterly stupid?

She was supposed to be the smart one, the jaded big city girl, that didn't get conned- that didn't make the same foolish mistakes of all those other silly girls he'd swindled with crooked grins and the lazy promise of passionate affection that sparkled in his gaze- but Zoe knew that wasn't her.

Never really had been.

New York had allowed her to live anonymously behind the defensive walls of her unrelenting career goals, had enabled her to keep people comfortably at bay but stubbornly crossing the Mason Dixon line had somehow stripped her of the habitual slick, protective shell and laid her tender heart all too bare. Left Zoe all too vulnerable to the sense of community that had endearingly snuck up on her- the feeling of finally belonging that she'd blatantly been missing practically splayed her wide open without warning. All too available to a man that her head told her was all wrong for her but every fiber of her being had still forcefully pumped the sure knowledge right to the marrow of her bones so that she couldn't ignore it- that he'd been the right one- so that she couldn't turn even the chance of him, of _them_, away.

Fancifully breathed life into the idea that she'd somehow regret not taking a chance with him more than the bittersweet concern of any possible failure and, yet, as she curled into herself now, desperately trying to ball all of her hurt up just as easily, Zoe knew that was a lie too.

All she wanted was to go back, to change something, _anything_, instead of feeling smothered, drained, defeated by the all too painful lesson of truth that kept repeating itself in her personal history if she ever dared to forget it... _She'd never be enough. _

Not for her mother. Not for either of her fathers.

And, obviously, not for Wade.

The man she unwontedly loved so strongly, so deeply, that she was going to mourn the mirage of him steadfastly beside her for an eternity. He'd leveled her with a single mistake that he prosaically claimed meant nothing to him but meant everything to her because she'd never be able to delude herself again.

She was now caught in a never ending battle, a war with herself; one that Zoe couldn't even fathom how to win. She wasn't practiced at romantic goodbyes because there'd never been a man that touched her enough to really alter her existence in any tangible way before, not even George. She didn't have an arsenal of post break-up techniques that would ease her disillusionment. And, she didn't know how to turn off all that she was now unrelentingly feeling, to dim the merciless love for Wade that still flooded her even while Zoe knew that she shouldn't allow herself to feel even the tiniest spark of emotion for him anymore.

Sure, as a doctor, Zoe knew that there were clinical phases that, eventually, she was likely to pass through but she didn't necessarily want to. She didn't want to think about a future day that even the mere thought of Wade wouldn't stir her tender affections toward him; couldn't comprehend a minute now that might not have her wallowing in the ravaging pain of his betrayal; shouldn't be wishing for a time that things between them finally reached that perfected ideal she'd secretly been yearning for where they...

No. _No_.

She wasn't going there. Not tonight. Not ever.

And, yet, she couldn't help it as another torrent of loss wracked her because Zoe knew that she shouldn't be hoping that there was some way that what Wade had done would mysteriously evaporate into the broken ether between them; shouldn't be wanting the solace of his arms around her to make her world right again; shouldn't be so many things...

The creak of the wooden floorboards in the foyer brought her pitiful musings up short as Zoe heard the scuffle of his booted feet creeping ever closer to her from behind as he raggedly pled into the still, cold, darkness of her home, "Baby, tell me how I can make this better."

"Go away, Wade," she angrily sniffled not wanting to turn toward him, to reveal yet another vulnerability to him because he'd just hurt her all over again.

"Baby," he desperately tried again. She could hear the low strains of his pained regret, his sorrowful remorse, chock full of the self disdain and loathing that should make her feel a little better but it didn't. It made it all that much worse.

"No," her breath hitched not able to force another false excuse about them probably not working out anyway past her lips again to cover the depths of her devastation. "I can't do this. You need to go."

"Zoe, please, I need to make this right," the word a rusty saw cutting her to the quick.

"There is no making this right," she bitterly whispered into the ever widening chasm between them.

"I'm gonna make you forgive me, prove that you can trust me to be good to you," Wade gritted out unwilling to accept the inevitable consequences of his callous actions. "We're gonna be good together again."

Zoe knew, even as she said the hurtful words that she shouldn't be telling Wade that she hated him because it wasn't true which made her hate herself even more for ever believing, for ever having faith in him, for still...

As his rangy body slipped onto the bed behind hers and his well sculpted arms fell into their rightful place around her, Zoe knew she should be kicking and screaming at him like the vilest of Southern shrews to get him to leave. She should be throwing her pricey accessories and trendy trinkets to shoo him out like she'd seen other women do to him.

Whatever Zoe should be doing, she absolutely, positively, shouldn't be silently hoping that the low keen of his promises would prove true given enough time.

No, she shouldn't be but, somehow, she was.


End file.
